


sugar

by gokurakuji



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Lingerie, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Smut, Talks About Gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 02:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gokurakuji/pseuds/gokurakuji
Summary: Namjoon's method of courtship is fancy gifts. Yeonjun has absolutely no problems with that.
Relationships: Choi Yeonjun/Kim Namjoon | RM
Comments: 41
Kudos: 302





	sugar

**Author's Note:**

> henlo. this is what stemmed from several discussion from several dm's. it's very short and it's mostly just talking but i hope you like it!
> 
> the dynamic in the fic is close to that of a sugar daddy (namjoon)-sugar baby (yeonjun) relationship, but they're going rather steady and only with each other. i tagged yeonjun as nonbinary because he uses both gendered honorifics 'hyung' and 'oppa' interchangebly and although it's not explicitly said where in the spectrum he identifies as, they do have brief, light conversations about it. yeonjun's character does not particularly have a lot of gender dysphoria, but just for a heads up they do talk about which sex organs yeonjun prefers.
> 
> there is no gendered third-person pronouns in the korean language, but in this fic i used he/him for yeonjun.
> 
> they use a lot of korean words i don't think translate well into english, a rough glossary is available in the end notes!

Yeonjun is into lace recently.

The traditional kind, classic white and paler, pastel fabrics. He’s been perusing them since sometime last year when his hair was slushy pink, but it’s only becoming a pattern now.

Said pattern goes like this: he sends a couple of links to Namjoon’s Ka-talk, Namjoon sends him a meeting time, and Yeonjun would walk into the master bedroom Namjoon has in his personal apartment and find a lush box on the bed, embossed and ribboned.

Today’s box is the fourth one since, this time from La Perla.

“It’s the only place that has white and non-wire,” Yeonjun mumbles. Despite the complaints, he doesn’t seem dissatisfied, fiddling with the straps of his satin haori, another one from another box, but not taking the thing off just yet. It’s sliding off one of his shoulders, a shy act.

“Black would look good on you, too,” Namjoon suggests.

“I have two black pieces already, I’m bored.” Fiddle, fiddle, twirl. Yeonjun’s pointer finger hooks on the loop and a flick of it unlaces the robe, letting it slide all the way down to the floor. That’s some practice and grace right there—purposeful, because Namjoon’s seen him trip his way into a pair of sweatpants on laxer days. Yeonjun tilts his head, feigning innocence, but Namjoon only looks at him in amusement, which makes Yeonjun scrunch his nose.

A sigh. The act’s dropped now. Yeonjun walks up to the bed and pushes Namjoon’s shoulder back as he seats himself on Namjoon’s lap.

“There you go.” Namjoon smiles, his hands automatically finding Yeonjun’s waist, the soft, dainty lace of Yeonjun’s garter belt crisp underneath his palms. “Good job.”

Yeonjun makes a face. “Hy _ung_ ,” he whines.

“Hm?” Namjoon thinks he knows what Yeonjun is whining about, but then again Yeonjun whines at just about anything. It’s his idea of aegyo and it never fails.

“This one’s cute, isn’t it?” Yeonjun pushes. So that’s what he wants, then. “Tell me.”

“It’s pretty,” Namjoon says forwardly, but their eyes locked and Yeonjun doesn’t approve of that.

“You’re not looking at it.”

“Well, that’s rather difficult when you’re this close to me.”

Huffing, Yeonjun takes Namjoon’s wrist and moves Namjoon’s hand up to his chest. “Feel it, then.” The material of the brassière is vulgar thin, the sheer masking essentially nothing at all, Yeonjun’s dusky nipple visible under the meticulous flower embroidery. “Isn’t it the softest thing?” Yeonjun pursues.

While the strap isn’t, the cup is all lace, no cotton. “Isn’t it scratchy?”

“Nothing that costs this much is scratchy, hyung.”

“You don’t even know how much it costs.”

“I can google it,” Yeonjun challenges and yeah, not a chance. That’ll ruin the magic.

“No, you’re not going to do that.”

“Or what?” Yeonjun’s grin is way too cheeky but Namjoon’s got the upper hand in this.

“Or I’m going to buy you more,” and that shuts Yeonjun up. It’s not that Yeonjun doesn’t like Namjoon buying him things, it’s quite the opposite, really, Yeonjun is extremely agreeable and he doesn’t put up a pseudo modest front, but there are some boundaries. Too much is too much and Namjoon knows where the line is.

Also, in practical terms, where’s Yeonjun going to put all of them? In his parents’ house? In his dorm where his bandmates are already tiptoeing around very suspicious? The scandalous articles of undergarments can stay in Namjoon’s apartment, but everyday clothes and jewellery aren’t really gifts if Yeonjun can’t bring them home.

 _Perfumes from your aunt, again? She runs a reseller, or what?_ Namjoon heard Taehyun on the phone with him once, and had to stifle a laugh. For a long-time trained idol who should be adept at discretion, Yeonjun sure makes a terrible liar.

“Ugh, you’re so—” Yeonjun grumbles. He holds Namjoon’s head in his hands and kisses him, quick, something Yeonjun does when he’s annoyed and wants Namjoon to stop speaking. He grabs Namjoon’s hand cupping his pec, urging Namjoon to squeeze more. “God, hyung, put more effort, I want attention.”

Honest kid. Namjoon laughs, endeared. He kisses Yeonjun’s lips again, “You have my full,” his jaw, “undivided,” his neck, “attention.”

The touch is only playful, and Yeonjun giggles, baring his neck for Namjoon to nuzzle. Both of Namjoon’s hands are on his chest now, squeezing tight but patient, cautious, the laces look dangerously dainty.

Yeonjun looks down at his own chest. “I want tits,” he laments. Sudden, but Namjoon’s not surprised. Yeonjun says things, a stream of unrestrained, unconfined consciousness.

“Hm?”

For demonstration, Yeonjun covers both of Namjoon’s hands with his, the muscles of his pecs only making a slight movement in the loose constraints of the brassière. “To fill these up.”

“How big?” Namjoon entertains him.

“Hmm,” Yeonjun ponders. “Is a C-cup big?”

Namjoon did buy the lingerie, but Yeonjun’s the only person he ever bought those stuff for and Yeonjun doesn’t actually have a cup, everything’s non-wire. “I have no idea how big that is.”

“I don’t want them too big, smaller than hyung’s hands, definitely.”

“Perky?” Namjoon teases.

“Perky,” Yeonjun mimics with a giggle. “But I don’t want them all the time, either, that sounds annoying. Won’t it be cool if I could, like, take them off and put them on whenever I want? Just have a drawer for it at home, next to my undies and stuff? That’ll be so cool.”

“Mhm,” Namjoon hums. He doesn’t get it, but he likes listening to Yeonjun.

“I could fit into so many more clothes. Boobs are great but I feel like dress shirts are better when it’s just flat in this area, you know?” Yeonjun gestures at his chest for effect. “But for other clothes boobs are amazing. Low-cut necklines, cleavages always look hot, and I can _finally_ wear those wire bras and—” he stops out of nowhere, deep in thought, then the next thing Namjoon hears is “do you like boobs, hyung?”

Okay, hm. Well, Namjoon doesn’t really have strong opinions on it, to be quite frank. “Yeah, sure. I’m pretty okay with my current chest shape and size, but other people’s boobs are good, I don’t discriminate.”

“Would you like it if I have boobs?”

Is that a trick question? “Sure, why not. I like you however.”

“Thanks!” Yeonjun grins. He’s a simple kid, doesn’t second-guess compliments. He wraps his arms around Namjoon’s neck loosely and kisses Namjoon again, chaste, a _thank you_ kiss, close enough for Namjoon to feel how supple Yeonjun’s lips are, to taste a hint of mint and cherries from the lip balm Yeonjun put on, something sponsored.

Freebies. That’s not good enough, now Namjoon wants to buy him lip products. This thing is truly a disease.

Yeonjun doesn’t deepen their kiss and pulls back, but Namjoon’s not letting him off the hook this time. He drags Yeonjun’s chin back down and parts Yeonjun’s mouth with his thumb, tracing their lips together until Yeonjun tips his head back, giggling again.

“ _Baby_ ,” Namjoon scolds. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m not, I’m—” Namjoon grips him by the scruff and Yeonjun squeals but stays put. Namjoon kisses carelessly on purpose, licking Yeonjun’s tongue, teeth grazing the plumped flesh of his lips. Yeonjun whimpers. “Hyung, hyung— _oppa_.”

There’s the switch. Namjoon draws back and Yeonjun is flushed down to his neck, lips wet and pink. Out of everything they’ve done, it’s adorable how kissing flusters him the most.

“Good?” Namjoon asks. He cups the side of Yeonjun’s face, his thumb brushes the little spill of saliva on the corner of Yeonjun’s lips.

Yeonjun nuzzles his palm like a cat. “Mn.”

“Does Kai still call you noona?” _Oppa_ isn’t much of a sexual thing between them. Yeonjun likes variety, that’s the surface explanation. Dive deeper and there’s more, about how suffocating lines and barriers are for him, how the box of one thing or the other traps him. Namjoon doesn’t get it but he listens, Yeonjun was made for spaces more vast.

The kids in his band are starting to catch on, too. They live together, after all.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun answers. “He uses both. I think he only calls me noona at home, to make up for lost chances, because in front of formal cameras he can only call me hyung. It’s contagious, he made the other boys call me noona.”

“They call you that because it matters to you, they’re good kids.”

Yeonjun purses his lips. “I’m the best, though, right?”

“Hm, I wonder—” Yeonjun tugs his ear and Namjoon laughs, hugging him tight. “You’re the best, you’re my favourite.”

“Exactly.” Their position is awkward on Yeonjun’s lower back and Yeonjun readjusts himself on Namjoon’s lap. In the process, his thigh brushes the half-mast Namjoon is sporting, a natural reaction from all the squirming Yeonjun has been doing, but they ignore that for now.

Namjoon touches Yeonjun’s crotch instead. Yeonjun is not entirely unbothered, he has a growing erection himself. “Baby.” Namjoon gives it a light tug through the satin. The head is peeking out of the high waistline of the thong. They’ve touched each other enough to measure and explore that Yeonjun isn’t stirred, it’s unspoken between them which advances are sexual and which are inquisitive, and they both are always on the same page about it. “How about here? Do you want this to be detachable, too?”

He swears he can see Yeonjun’s eyes light up. “Oh, there? God, definitely yeah. They’re neat but sometimes I can’t stand them.”

“That so?”

That’s a jackpot question. Yeonjun is now enabled. “Okay, so first off, think about how easy performances are without them? We don’t need to wear those jockstraps anymore, nothing chafes.”

Namjoon hums. “Point taken,” he says. He doesn’t mind the jockstraps, it hurts to dance sets after sets without it otherwise, but yeah, when he has to just sit down and not actively move around it can be a hindrance.

“Other than that, think about how pretty I’d finally look in these panties, they’d just… all fit, like a neat little package.” Yeonjun rocks his hips to make a point, it’s more prominent now that he has a semi, but even when it’s not there’s always going to be something down there. “Do you like being inside a pussy, oppa?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon admits frankly. What’s not to like? A vagina is a bit more ribbed inside, sometimes Namjoon feels the cervical opening swell on his cockhead and that makes for a nice squish. “They’re small, stretchy. Takes a pounding.”

“You can fuck mine if I have one.”

How did that sound more cute than hot? It’s the eagerness, Namjoon guesses. “Of course I can.”

Yeonjun grins. “Providing you sugar.”

“You just _say_ things, don’t you.”

Yeonjun rocks his hips with way firmer intent now. He’s warming up, giving hints and guiding them where he wants them to go, they’re turning the page together. “Won’t it be easier though? You can just… slip in. No lube, maybe no prep, even. Don’t you think that’s romantic? You can flip my skirt, tug my panties down and just have at it. Well, you can’t come inside, but pills do sound way less maintenance than having to douche again and again.”

No prep is absurd, but Yeonjun has never been and perhaps has no interest in being inside a vagina, so Namjoon lets it slide with a light spank. “Knowing you, you’ll want it in the back, anyway.”

“Oh, _huh_ ,” Yeonjun perks up and fuck, Namjoon shouldn’t have said that. The expression on Yeonjun’s face is a cheeky mix of scandalized and fascinated. “What makes you think?”

“You’re the type.”

“How am I the type?” Yeonjun pushes, the cat-like smile on his lips making Namjoon want to look away before he falls into any trap. Namjoon won’t budge and Yeonjun whines. “Oppa, say it.”

“You’re needy,” he says, too embarrassed to elaborate. He squeezes Yeonjun’s waist to get them to move on from the topic but Yeonjun slaps his hands off.

“No, you’re not getting any until you say it.”

“It’s—” Namjoon turns his head away and Yeonjun grabs him still, locking his eyes with Namjoon’s.

His voice dips, easy honey. “It’s not a difficult word. Look at me, I’m so worked up, I want you to say it.”

But it _is_ a difficult word, it’s something that crawls under Namjoon’s skin, that Namjoon has learnt to not allow on his tongue, and Yeonjun has been trying for months to make him understand that it’s okay, with Yeonjun it is.

Yeonjun’s thumb caresses his temple, brushing his hair back, and Namjoon says it in a whisper, “You’re a slut, baby.”

And Yeonjun gasps, pretty and proud. “Good boy,” he praises. He puts Namjoon’s hand on his hips again, grinding on the man’s lap. “Good, you can—please.”

Namjoon kisses his ear. He hooks Yeonjun’s leg around his waist and flips them around using much of his core and arm strength to keep steady, Yeonjun’s back landing on the mattress with a gentle shift.

They need to scoot up a bit for Yeonjun’s head to rest on the pillows better, and the little tussle has Yeonjun giggling, his nose scrunching as he smiles.

“I’m getting the lube,” Namjoon says and gets up on his knees to retrieve the bottle from the nightstand.

It’s already readied there, taken out from the drawers in Namjoon’s walk-in closet they keep it in (Namjoon’s parents come to care for the place every so often) but Yeonjun still sulks that Namjoon has to let him go. “See? So unromantic.”

It only takes a second for Namjoon to grab it and get back between Yeonjun’s legs. “What, you want a prettier tube? You want it in a glossy golden vial?”

Yeonjun pouts. “I want to leak from my cunt.”

God. Unbelievable.

Namjoon shakes his head, at a loss for words. He chooses to ignore that and strips his own sweater off, earning a whistle from Yeonjun, which Namjoon chooses to ignore, too, crowding Yeonjun against the pillows. The sheets are the posh kind, hotel sheets his mom ordered from a department store, peach and gold. The colours are pretty on Yeonjun’s skin, that white lace he’s been hell-bent to try on.

Should they have it off?

Namjoon’s hand sneaks under Yeonjun, along his back to find the clasp, but the fabric is flat and Yeonjun chuckles. “It opens from the front, oppa.”

“Oops.”

Yeonjun taps the golden clasp in the middle of his brassière. It’s like that movie Taehyung was crazy about and made Namjoon watch with him twice, there was a scene like this. “You should learn how to. Everybody’s wearing the ones with the front clasp nowadays.”

“And you know this how?”

“I have female friends I’m allowed to talk to.” That’s bragging.

Namjoon traces the metal of the clasp with his fingertip, he has no idea how this opens. “You talk about bras with them?”

“Uh-huh. Bras, cakes, bubble tea, what else…” Yeonjun lists. “Cock? Technical stuff, though. Like does it really get hard out of nowhere, is it normal to be circumcised, do we compare sizes—how it tastes.”

“How does it taste?”

“Like cock.”

Namjoon chuckles, he shouldn’t be surprised anymore at this point, really, but Yeonjun is full of tricks. “Very smart.”

“Do I get to today?” Getting too brave, Yeonjun rolls his tongue out. Namjoon licks it just for that and Yeonjun yelps, giggling and whining in the same breath.

“Depends,” Namjoon says. He’s a sane guy and won’t turn down a blowjob, but all the pussy talk makes him crave for something else. He cups Yeonjun’s chest through the brassière and says, “Let’s keep this on.”

“You can’t figure out how to open it?”

If this kid isn’t cute Namjoon won’t forgive him this much. “No, and in the time I was figuring it out I decided it’s a waste to strip off you.”

“Very true,” Yeonjun agrees, feeling the lace himself. “Would be a waste, right? 400,000 won?”

A bit off by 50,000 won but it’s a good margin to round off on. Namjoon kisses his nose and his eyelid, then his collarbone where Yeonjun mewls.

They’ve collected a good variety of loungewear and lingerie by now; robes, slips, teddies, bodysuits, even clothing in general like thigh-highs and dolphin shorts, crop tops, an assortment of skirts and dresses. Sometimes Yeonjun is in the mood for suits or his old school uniform, or as ironic as it sounds, jockstraps. But jockstraps are for sex while the rest of them he’d wear around the apartment, watching Netflix on Namjoon’s couch in a three-piece suit, eating takeout kebab on Namjoon’s dining table in a sports bra and Namjoon’s sweatpants.

It might seem arbitrary, but it’s a form of self-expression.

“You really have to go all out, don’t you?” Namjoon says. He traces the lacing on Yeonjun’s garter belt. It frames his waist charmingly, the suspender straps latched to tan-coloured stockings on legs that seem to go on and on. He’s even put on makeup today, decorated his fingers with creme-coloured press-on nails, he’s dedicated himself to his art. It might be for no one else but Namjoon and himself, but Yeonjun’s not the type to half-ass.

Yeonjun shifts his hips, seeking Namjoon’s touch. “Next time let’s get those—bondage-y stuff, harnesses, corsets.”

Namjoon massages his thighs to give him what he wants. The stockings are sinfully soft, but so is Yeonjun’s skin. “Thought you said they were tacky?”

“Not if you don’t actually act all alpha male shit and tie me up—there, _ah_ , there are cute ones.” The small hitch makes Namjoon smile, rubbing along the muscle of Yeonjun’s thigh. “They come with cat ears, I think.”

“Cat ears?”

“ _Yaaong_ ,” Yeonjun drawls. The pitch shoots down to Namjoon’s dick and Namjoon pinches the brat’s thigh for the tease. Yeonjun laughs, only stopping when Namjoon is about to unclasp his suspenders. “Wait, wait! You haven’t seen all of it. Look at it from the back, let me get on my hands and knees.”

Demands after demands. Sighing, Namjoon lets him go to sit back on his heels, spanking Yeonjun again when the kid turns around and settles on all fours.

And now that Namjoon sees it right under his nose, it’s—something else. “It s-suits you,” Namjoon says. The strain in his voice doesn’t go past Yeonjun and Yeonjun giggles, arching his back to push out his ass because he’s like that. Absolutely no consideration for Namjoon’s sanity.

There’s practically nothing covering his ass, it’s a thong to begin with, but the flimsy strip of lace adds a naughty yet somehow innocent touch. This is Yeonjun’s hobby but Namjoon starts to think maybe Yeonjun’s planned some things to push his buttons, he has all of Namjoon’s fetishes figured out. Is he overthinking this? Namjoon gropes an asscheek and Yeonjun relaxes, giving himself to Namjoon. Maybe he’s not overthinking this.

“You can fuck me with it on,” Yeonjun offers, then rephrases, “Hold up, wrong, I meant to say _oppa fuck me with it on_. You don’t have a choice.”

“Bossy.” Namjoon flicks the lace. “You trust me with this?”

“If you tear it, it’s more your loss than mine.”

“You haven’t even tried the pink one that came with the box.”

The pink in Yeonjun’s hair is fading, the roots showing, but Namjoon thinks this more muted shade would go well with the powder pink of the other collection he bought. Before he got home Yeonjun snapped him a picture of the open box and sent it to his Ka-talk with a flood of stickers, so that must mean he loved it, too.

“I wanted to put it on after the bath,” Yeonjun promises.

Namjoon props a pillow underneath Yeonjun’s tummy for him to rest and rut against if he wants. Yeonjun purrs, appreciative. He spreads his knees on the mattress wider when Namjoon drags the thong aside, squeezing lube right on top of his pucker. His hole dilates from the contact but otherwise Yeonjun is unaffected, he stays put obediently. Namjoon wipes the excess that’s run past Yeonjun’s hole and rubs it in with his thumb.

“Sorry I might be tighter than usual today,” Yeonjun tells him. He’s probably just washed. Body care isn’t something he’s particularly diligent about, bits of bruises from dancing strewn along his knees and calves, but today he’s thorough. Every inch Namjoon touches is shaved and moisturized.

Aside from that, they’ve been busy, Namjoon recalls Yeonjun’s schedules are more the ‘sit down and act diplomatic’ type lately, so he might have stiffened up.

Namjoon massages his opening with the lube, giving a few pulses with his fingertip before he pushes it inside. He wasn’t bluffing when he said he was tight inside. “Why? It’s all the more fun. I like foreplay.”

“Takes forever,” Yeonjun grumbles. Their age gap feels prominent in these instances, Namjoon preferring to take things slow while Yeonjun always seems impatient, or maybe Namjoon’s just odd. He’s not sure. He’s close with his bandmates and his friends but Jimin takes sex talk as an oversharing competition and the others are divided between ‘we get it, you’re getting some’ and ‘ha-ha, so this kimchi tastes a bit old today, don’t you think?’

Either way, they can’t exactly rush things if Yeonjun is this tight. His walls are stubborn today, Namjoon has to withdraw his finger all the way and then push back in to fit the next inch or so. “Baby, can you relax?”

“I’m doing my best— _a-ahh_.” Finally, Namjoon slips his whole finger in. His knuckle bumps Yeonjun’s rim, Namjoon twists his finger to loosen him up more and Yeonjun burrows his face between his arms to muffle his voice.

There’s really no need for that. “No, go on. You sound pretty.”

Yeonjun whines, but lets go. “ _Ha-aah_.” Namjoon gives his left thigh a squeeze as a reward, and Yeonjun doesn’t hide his little hiccups of _hnng hnng_ as Namjoon works his finger inside, adding another one when he deems Yeonjun’s walls ready to take it.

“Hyung, which one do you like during sex? Hyung or oppa?”

“Honestly? I just like that I’m older,” Namjoon answers. It’s not that he’s strictly into younger people, but there’s a reason _oppa_ and _hyung_ are staples in porn, there’s something psychological in it that he doesn’t really want to analyze.

“That’s fair,” Yeonjun allows. Some things don’t need an explanation.

“Just use whatever comes to mind like you usually do.”

He sees Yeonjun bob his head. Namjoon crooks his fingers inside him to find his prostate and Yeonjun squeaks when he does, so unbearably adorable that Namjoon laughs.

“ _Hyeo-eong,_ ” Yeonjun complains. “Three.”

“Okay, roger.” The lube is water-based and Namjoon’s been fingering him for quite a while to get him loose, the substance is drying. Namjoon turns his palm upward and adds more on the base of his two fingers, fucking it in with a squelch that makes Yeonjun kick his knee. “It’s hot,” Namjoon insists.

“J’st add th’reeh.” Yeonjun reaches back to spread his asscheek. His fingertip hooks on his rim, pulling it aside to no avail, he’s too tight and Namjoon doesn’t think it works that way, so he helps out. He gives Yeonjun that third finger he’s begging for, and Yeonjun’s own finger twitches as he feels his hole stretch around the new intrusion.

The extra lube and how Yeonjun’s walls keep constricting around Namjoon’s fingers make it squelch on each thrust, wet and obscene.

“You’re noisy here, too, huh?” Namjoon teases. Yeonjun ignores him, going to cup his own erection through his panties, but his earlobes are red and Namjoon smiles at how honest his body is.

Yeonjun ruts his cock on his palm when it gets too much, his shoulder blades flexing and his toes curling the faster Namjoon fucks him with his fingers, hitting his prostate square each time, and Namjoon knows it’s the cue for him to slow down. “Mmmh, can you—?” Yeonjun mumbles.

“All good?”

“All good.” Namjoon drags his fingers on his way out and spanks Yeonjun’s hole for the good job. Yeonjun kneads on the sheets like a cat, pushes his ass up to get comfy while Namjoon shucks his own pants off.

Clearly, Namjoon is taking too much time lubing up his dick because Yeonjun is dipping his fingers back into his ass, fucking himself lazily.

“You won’t tighten up that fast,” Namjoon says.

“Maybe I just feel empty because oppa is taking too long.”

Namjoon sighs. He lines up and Yeonjun pulls his fingers out to make space. The strip of the thong gets in the way and Namjoon tucks it aside as he tries to fit his cockhead in.

“Hhn, slowly, slowly,” Yeonjun warns.

Namjoon’s already going exceptionally slow. “I know. You can take it.”

Once the head is in it’s usually a smoother slide to the hilt, but Yeonjun _is_ insanely tight today, Namjoon has to rock back out and ease his way in, pressing his thumbs on Yeonjun’s slick, slightly swollen rim to keep his opening stretched.

It must be a lot for Yeonjun, too, he doesn’t typically sob this early in but he’s already hiccuping again, whimpers every time Namjoon’s cock squishes against his walls.

Bending forward is not a good idea when Yeonjun’s not adjusted yet, and Namjoon holds onto Yeonjun’s waist with one hand to help him stay in position. He’s doing well, it’s not an easy feat to take Namjoon’s cock, he knows he’s on the overwhelming side.

It takes some patience. Yeonjun lets out a winded breath when Namjoon bottoms out. He shivers and then his shoulders visibly relax, his body welcoming the foreign weight. Namjoon takes the hint, he grips Yeonjun’s hips with both hands now and drags Yeonjun back on his cock.

“Oh, _oh_ , you’re—you’re so—” Yeonjun squirms. Namjoon’s hips meet his ass flush and Yeonjun arches his spine, purring like a real cat. “You s-sure you really don’t want to take that thing off sometimes?”

“No, it’s attached to my ego, sadly.”

“Your ego should keep up.” Despite the slight waver in his voice, Yeonjun brings his front up to his elbow, settling Namjoon’s cock inside him at a better angle. Namjoon caresses his flank and gives him a couple of shallow thrusts. “Mmh, big,” Yeonjun sighs out.

The pace picks up experimentally, Namjoon switches from moving Yeonjun’s body onto his cock to holding him still, using his own hips to fuck Yeonjun properly. The kid is squeezing his dick like a toy, trying to bounce his ass back as if he needs Namjoon deeper. Considering how much Namjoon is already packing, that’s greedy.

“You get why you’d want it in your ass anyway, right?” Namjoon asks, pulling out and sheathing himself back in until the hilt, and the implication clicks in Yeonjun’s head.

“It doesn’t fit inside a cunt?”

“No.”

“Oh my god,” Yeonjun gasps. He goes up on his palms and rocks himself back on Namjoon, that impatient part of him sparking to life. “Now I want one, I really really want one—”

“ _Baby_.” Namjoon grapples for Yeonjun’s waist but Yeonjun _clenches,_ too, and Namjoon can’t stop his own hips from moving, then, can he?

“Fuck, oppa, I haven’t watched straight porn in fucking forever, ah-ah, you’ll fucking tear me in two, god, pussies fucking _bleed,_ right?” Namjoon shoves his head down to shut him up. The angle of his cock tilts sharply and Yeonjun squeals against the sheets.

The first girl Namjoon fucked, they were in high school and she kept bleeding until the third or fourth time that they had to Naver what the fuck was wrong, he didn’t even put the whole thing in her. At that time, he was just scared shitless because _she_ was scared shitless, but in hindsight? It was crazy hot, Naver pretty much told him _your cock’s too fucking big_.

It’s his, but even he himself still hasn’t gotten used to it. When it’s in his own hand he doesn’t think twice about it, but right now when Yeonjun’s hole is swallowing his whole girth it looks absolutely ridiculous. He’ll pull back and there keeps being more, and when he fucks in it just—disappears inside Yeonjun. It blows his mind how someone could take him so perfectly.

Namjoon lets his hand off the back of Yeonjun’s head, but Yeonjun keeps his cheek mushed on the mattress, couldn’t be bothered to be on his elbows. His legs are spread to accommodate Namjoon’s thrusts and the position is a strain on his lower back. Namjoon’s cock curves painfully in him that way, too, so Namjoon hauls his ass up by the suspender straps of his garter belt.

Once he gets into rhythm, the slaps of his hip bones on Yeonjun’s asscheeks get wetter, the lube sticky damp down to Yeonjun’s taint, soiling his panties. Namjoon knows he’s doing good when Yeonjun’s moans sound punched out of him, airier, no longer the _ahn oppa faster_ performance Yeonjun does to have fun with him. These wails are more desperate, drunk, his voice high and light-headed like he doesn’t even realize he’s making those noises. Namjoon gets a thought that he really sounds like a cat.

Then, and Namjoon knows the little shit does it on purpose, Yeonjun fucking _meows_. And Yeonjun might mean it as a joke to get Namjoon to spank him, but Namjoon’s hips stutter and he feels like his balls were two seconds from exploding. Yeonjun felt him halt and had the audacity to giggle.

“Yeah, let’s switch up.” Namjoon has had enough of him. He pulls out sloppily and Yeonjun whines like a kid robbed of his plaything. “Get on your back, I want to annoy you.”

“What do you— _mmfph_ —” Namjoon’s not listening, he flips Yeonjun around to get them face-to-face and crushes their lips together, gripping Yeonjun’s nape so he couldn’t get away from this, forced to open his mouth for Namjoon’s tongue to slip in. Yeonjun runs out of breath in less than 30 seconds, so much for all that dancing.

“Stop, s-stop, get back in,” he demands, covering Namjoon’s mouth with his palm. Namjoon folds Yeonjun’s knees to his chest and shoves his cock back in. “ _Aahnng—!_ ”

That was too rough, mayhaps.

He slides Yeonjun down the bed to a gentler angle, grinding his cock in instead of thrusting, shallow strokes. He brushes Yeonjun’s hair back and kisses between his eyebrows in apology, but he’s worrying for nothing. Yeonjun’s meeting each of his movements with utmost enthusiasm and he’s got a hand wrapped around his dick, the thong dragged to the side, so Namjoon must not have done anything _too_ bad.

He shifts Yeonjun’s hips higher and his cockhead hits Yeonjun’s prostate right-on, Yeonjun moaning shamelessly at that.

“Say thank you, baby,” Namjoon rasps. He gives Yeonjun the pounding the kid wants, the rougher Namjoon goes the better it is for him, too, since Yeonjun’s tight ass is clenching around him like it’s trying to snap his dick in two.

“Th’ank you, uhnnm.” Namjoon sees Yeonjun’s hands squirm above his head, wrists pressed together in an invitation. Namjoon takes it, he locks Yeonjun’s wrists in his hand and pins him to the bed, making sure to ram his cock on where it gets Yeonjun twitching.

“It’s good, oppa— _nnh_ —feels g-guh,” Yeonjun whimpers. He’s close, they’re both close, but Namjoon wants to feel Yeonjun cum on his cock. He leans down and licks Yeonjun’s lips. “No—” Yeonjun moans. Namjoon digs his teeth into the flesh of Yeonjun’s bottom lip, kissing him dizzy.

Just from making out Yeonjun is clamping down on his dick so possessively that Namjoon has to bear down on his knees more to keep his thrusts from faltering. Yeonjun kisses back, he does, but he’s never been too good at this, always too sensitive, he’s already panting, mouth opened in a gasp. Namjoon uses the chance to spit in his mouth and Yeonjun comes with a shudder, his whole body convulsing as he rides out his orgasm, spilling onto his stomach.

“Oppa—op-pa,” Yeonjun begs. “I want it in my mouth, please, oppa, please.”

Shit, does he not know that saying that will make Namjoon nut faster in him? “Fuck, okay,” Namjoon grunts. His cock was close to bursting and it takes all of him to stop. He pulls out and lets Yeonjun’s legs down but Yeonjun doesn’t even bother to sit up, and Namjoon has to go and straddle his chest.

At least the kid opens up his mouth. Yeonjun closes his lips around Namjoon’s cockhead, swiping his tongue over the slit. Namjoon isn’t a fan of pulling out right before he comes when he’s not wearing any condoms because his dick is absolutely filthy. The lube and precum stick along the veins and it’s not a pretty sight, Yeonjun is seriously the only person he’s slept with who’s willing to put his mouth on the thing.

Yeonjun doesn’t take him deep. He sucks on the tip as Namjoon strokes himself. He’s about to ask Yeonjun if he wants it on his tongue or on his face but Yeonjun rolls his eyes back and Namjoon _loses it._ He comes right on the roof of Yeonjun’s mouth and Yeonjun drinks all of it pliantly, some drooling down his chin where it’s dribbled down Namjoon’s shaft.

Namjoon rubs himself empty and schools his breathing before he climbs off Yeonjun.

Yeonjun’s got his eyes closed, cum-stained lips parted. Namjoon cradles his face and wipes the filth off his lips.

He doesn’t kiss Yeonjun, that would overstimulate him more than touching his dick. He waits for Yeonjun’s breathing to calm, too, and he pulls him close.

“Kkoma-yah,” Namjoon hums, “aegi.”

“Mmn?” Yeonjun purrs.

He strokes Yeonjun’s hair. “Let’s clean up.”

“Kiss me.” Permission. Permission is good. Namjoon pecks his mouth. His cum tastes slightly more bearable lately because of his meal plans, and he’s grateful for that.

“Thank you,” Namjoon says, for the kiss mostly, but yeah, the sex, too.

“Felt good, 8.7/10.”

What a rating. Namjoon chuckles. “Tough crowd, how can I improve?”

“Hmm. Remember when you fucked me against a wall and then picked me up? That was a solid 9. When you ate me out and then kept grinding your dick on my prostate until I came untouched twice, that was a 10, no wait, at least 12/10.”

“Want me to do that again?”

Yeonjun pouts. “No, I’ll die. 8.7 is a perfect score, oppa.”

“Maybe I really should tie you up.”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Yeonjun threatens. Namjoon pinches his nose and kisses him again, but that one was unsolicited and Yeonjun squeaks from the surprise attack.

Give or take five minutes of lying down, Namjoon fills up the bath for Yeonjun, adds in some bath oils and bubbles because he deserves it, Namjoon’s been through the same dorm phase and he knows it’s a shit experience. 2021 and they still ration hot water intake? Absurd.

Clean-up takes longer after bottoming and Namjoon’s already dressed when Yeonjun’s drying his hair at the vanity table, wearing the pink lingerie set underneath his bathrobe. He’ll probably do his makeup again, it’s a fun pastime for him.

“I’ll go pick up food while you do your thing,” Namjoon tells him, putting on his mask and gathering his keys and such.

Yeonjun shuts the hairdryer to hear him better. “What are we having?”

“There’s that French place, was thinking of some galettes, maybe some meat.”

Yeonjun purses his lips in the mirror. “Ooh, I want the one with cheese and mushrooms.”

Namjoon knows which one. “Aye-aye, pick a wine from the cooler, yeah?”

“I snooped while I was waiting for you to get here. You don’t have rosé, can you get a bottle with the food, please?”

Only because he said please, Namjoon supposes, smiling. “You have a lot of wishes, huh, agasshi?”

Yeonjun pouts, but he does look like an agasshi with his bathrobe and how he’s claimed the place on Namjoon’s vanity as his own, and Namjoon knows he’s well aware of that. Namjoon walks past him and tousles his wet hair before he leaves the room.

Here’s the honest, unbridled truth: If Namjoon met Yeonjun when Namjoon was younger, Namjoon wouldn’t be able to stand him.

Reflecting back on that time during his pre-debut, tangled in the underground rap scene and reluctantly signed to be—well, an idol, he had plenty of grievances, some deserved and some not so much but envy churned ugly.

Yeonjun represented everything Namjoon had denied. An attractive ulzzang who went into the trainee pipeline to be an idol and came out into the industry with flying colours. He had the personality. He could dance, he could sing, he excelled in those, and he could rap, although Namjoon wouldn’t have accepted it as rap back then.

An idol. Artificial music, untalented pretty faces and a career out of screaming preteen girls instead of ‘real’ music, whatever that was.

But then Namjoon became an idol, didn’t he? And nothing was easy, not the food he couldn’t eat, the hours he couldn’t sleep, the mistakes he couldn’t make, limbs constantly numb from endless dance practice, all for the sake of what? Love? Acceptance? From strangers who didn’t even know him. There’s more to being an idol than just music, but that doesn’t mean it dilutes the music. These idols didn’t quit, so the music must mean something to them, right?

He had a lot of internalized hatred to make sense of, to dissect and label.

Perhaps what he hated the most was that deep down he knew how hard these pretty faces worked, but he just didn’t want to recognize it, because they were pretty and Namjoon wanted to believe that they had it easy to justify all the love he thought was taken from him. Because he wasn’t pretty enough.

What was Kim Namjoon, fifteen years old in his pen-stained uniform and bottle-cap glasses?

But so what? He grew up and he’s got his face on TVs and billboards just like all those pretty idols and he thinks hell yeah he’s pretty, too.

How old was he again when he met Yeonjun, 25, 26? He heard a lot from their coaches and their choreographers. Talented kid, they said, a natural, yet he built himself up from the bottom. Namjoon watched and listened to their works and he saw a kid that outshone most of his peers, but then he met the kid and the kid was a scared little thing.

He reminded Namjoon of when he just debuted himself, and the other rookie idols during his time. Did I do it right? Was I enough? How wrong could this go and how much more do I have to try?

They won Rookie of the Year award, and again, and again, and again, and each time the kid’s eyes went as wide. Namjoon saw him and thought to himself, _I want to tell him everything would be all right._

The company booked them a hotel for one of the domestic award shows at the end of 2019. They’d have a company party the next evening in one of the ballrooms, since management staff wouldn’t particularly be in the mood to stay up longer after a grand event.

The night of the award show itself, however, a few bands rented out a bar nearby, it was free entry for artists and performers but refreshments were out of their own pockets.

None of the rookies planned to go, save for a few who were close to their sunbaes. TXT definitely didn’t go, BTS were too busy to be present sunbaes and it wasn’t like all of BTS went, either.

The TXT managers were ushering them out of the waiting room to Namjoon guessed their ride back to the hotel after the show formally ended. Namjoon saw Yeonjun pick up his bag on one side of the room, and Namjoon tucked his own phone into his suit pocket.

Privy, Yoongi lifted an eyebrow at him and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

It wasn’t like that, Namjoon convinced himself. They had soft drinks and champagne in the waiting room but since most of Yeonjun’s group were minors he didn’t get to drink the champagne out of solidarity, and that was a shame, Namjoon thought. It was good champagne.

“Hey,” Namjoon walked up to him. He looked up at Namjoon like a deer caught in headlights and Namjoon had to stop himself from chuckling. “Congratulations, great job.”

“Thank you, sunbaenim,” Yeonjun replied. His voice was trained.

“You’re an adult, right? It sucks that you didn’t get to drink, I’ll buy you one at the bar. If that’s all right with you I can go tell your manager.”

Yeonjun nodded, unblinking. Namjoon flagged down his manager and Hoseok and Jimin pretended to not see them walk out of the room together.

It was only when they were in the bar and Yeonjun was tapping his nails on the base of his Manhattan glass that he smiled at Namjoon and told him, “Soobin-sshi is 20, too, do you know, hyungnim?”

And Namjoon did know. But it was and wasn’t like that. “Well, 20’s a buffer year, anyway,” Namjoon said, although he could hear himself how much of a lame excuse that was.

Yeonjun had a glint in his eyes and Namjoon could tell that from that point on that he was truly, utterly fucked.

“Hey,” Seokjin greets him from the kitchen.

“Hey,” Namjoon greets back. The elevator doors ping close behind him. He takes off his shoes at the entryway, walks to the kitchen, puts down the takeout bag and bottle of wine, remembers that this is _his_ apartment and not _their penthouse_ , and then immediately does a double-take at Seokjin. “—Hyung why are you here?” He panics, saying three words a second.

Seokjin makes a zipping gesture across his mouth. “He’s asleep,” Seokjin shushes him. “Gosh, Namjoon, you can at least give us a heads up, I literally took the elevator up without ringing the buzzer or anything.”

“Why would you do that?” Namjoon whisper-shouts.

“Because I always do that!” Seokjin whisper-shouts back.

“Why—” This is crazy. They know about him and Yeonjun and Yeonjun knows they know, too, but Yeonjun doesn’t even talk to them, much less be ready for them to walk in when Yeonjun is probably not… decent. Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you here?”

Casually, Seokjin gestures at a gift-wrapped box on the dining table, right next to where Namjoon just put down his takeout bag. “Strawberry jam and syrup from my uncle’s farm. Your mom asked for it.”

She must have but Namjoon can’t remember. He has a migraine coming.

“Joon-ah, just next time, if you have your pretty thing over, say something, okay? I could’ve given him a heart attack.” Seokjin scolds, exasperated. They’re still whispering. Where is Yeonjun anyway? They shouldn’t need to whisper this much if Yeonjun is asleep in Namjoon’s room. Being louder is better, actually, lets him know there’s someone outside.

Namjoon whispers anyway. “What am I supposed to tell you, hyung? That I’m using my day off to have sex, why do you need to know?”

Seokjin’s ears instantly go flashing red. “We don’t need to know that far! It’s in context, genius! Just tell us, what, I don’t know, ‘hey, I got Yeonjun over’?”

“It’s my apartment, not our penthouse! You all report who’s at your place each time? You didn’t tell me what you were doing today.”

Seokjin crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back. “Hm. Fair point.”

“He didn’t see you right? He’s asleep, you said? You went to my bed—”

“ _Oppa—ang,_ ” Yeonjun’s voice interrupts him mid-speech and both Seokjin and he hunch over, frozen.

The voice came from Namjoon’s living room, a sleepy mumble, and Namjoon puts two and two together and realizes Yeonjun must have fallen asleep on his couch. He can’t see Yeonjun from the kitchen and neither can Yeonjun see them, what with the back of the sofa facing them.

“Aw’you back?” Yeonjun mumbles again, no intention of waking up. The _oppa_ part is not secret, Yeonjun uses both. The new thing about this is that he’s speaking in aegyo and Seokjin can hear that as clear as day, throwing Namjoon a smug look.

Namjoon doesn’t want him to start waking up and look for him, so he answers Yeonjun with a “ _Ne_.”

“Ca’wy me to bed.”

Seokjin is grinning and Namjoon has to wipe his eyes to restrain his hand from doing something he regrets to Seokjin. “ _Ne_.”

Yeonjun makes a happy hum and something that sounds like a blanket rustles against the upholstery.

Namjoon counts to ten seconds in his head and then says in the lowest volume audible to Seokjin, “Can you… turn the other way? I don’t think he’s wearing pants.”

“I know what he’s wearing. I put a blanket on him.”

Namjoon almost choked on his saliva. “Hyung…”

“Would you rather I let him lie there and catch a cold?” Seokjin drives his point, but Namjoon glares at him and Seokjin waves him off. “I know, I know, you don’t need to tell me twice, I’m turning around.”

Namjoon huffs. Halfway to the sofa, he can already see the tufts of Yeonjun’s hair on a cushion. He’s wearing Namjoon’s hoodie, thank god, and as Seokjin said he’s got a blanket draped over him, too.

While Yeonjun is sound asleep, Namjoon gathers the blanket around him and scoops him up to a bridal carry, feeling bare legs on his arms. _There’s the hoodie at least,_ Namjoon consoles himself, and no way is he telling Yeonjun about Seokjin.

He brings Yeonjun back to the bed and tucks him under the covers properly, telling him to sleep a bit more as Namjoon gets their food ready.

Seokjin is still leaning against his fridge in the kitchen when Namjoon gets back.

“Hyung, thanks for the jam but can you—” Namjoon shrugs his shoulder to gesture for the elevator.

Seokjin puts both of his hands up. “I’ll go, I’ll go.”

**Bangtan Members [7]**

**me [17:34]** :

I have yeonjun over today

Don’t just let yourself in if you need to make a surprise visit like jin-hyung the other day

**Park Jimin [17:35]** :

Okay oppang <3

**me [17:35]** :

Seriously???

**Kim Taehyung [17:35]** :

Okay oppang <3

**Jung Hoseok [17:35]** :

Okay oppang <3

**Jeon Jungkook [17:35]** :

Okay oppang <3

**Kim Seokjin-hyung [17:35]** :

Okay oppang <3

**Min Yoongi-hyung [17:36]** :

Okay oppang <3

...

Did you really have to call me for this????

**Park Jimin [17:36]** :

thank you for proving your bangtan loyalty

**Kim Seokjin-hyung [17:36]** :

your membership to this chatroom has been extended until further notice

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **some terms:**  
>  \- _yaong_ is an onomatopoeia for cats, "meow" in korean  
> \- _kkoma-yah_ : is close to "little boy/brat/runt" depending on context, a cute endearment mostly used for young boys, you see the run bts staff use this a lot for jungkook  
> \- _aegi_ : "baby"  
> \- _agasshi_ : "young mistress/lady", how you address rich young ladies in the traditional meaning  
> \- _oppang_ : oppa but cutesy, aegyo (just to avoid confusion the bts members were teasing joon about the aegyo usage and not yeonjun calling him "oppa" in itself)  
> \- _ne_ : "yes"
> 
> i am available on [twitter](https://twitter.com/yakultco)


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